Ianto's Diary
by ZebbieCullen
Summary: Ch 1: Ianto writes about a dinner date with Jack. Ch 2: Ianto writes about the after match of Tosh and Owen's death. Jack/Ianto fluff!
1. 14th February

_A/N: Just a random idea I came up with after watching last nights episode. It's for the Valentines Day post-athon over at Robin's Revenge Forum (long story). The BBC owns Torchwood, I only claim the mistakes. Just a bit of Jack/Ianto fluff. I may continue it, depends on how much time I have. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!_

_14__th__ February_

I smiled slightly to myself and slapped on a bit of cologne in the bathroom. I know he likes it. Whenever the two of us are alone he always breathes in the scent of my neck. I didn't put any gel in my hair, just left it flat, hanging in dark locks over my eyes. He always said that it screams to have hands run through it.

I've just noticed the date at the top of the page. I didn't even realise it was Valentines Day. I tried to push it out of my mind after Lisa died, not wanting to relive those painful memories anymore than I had to. Perhaps that's why Jack suggested dinner at my place instead of the usual bar. I've always thought of him as a romantic.

I just checked on the chicken. It looks fine, and makes a nice change to the pizza we are used to consuming. I took the bottle of wine from the fridge and placed it in the middle of the table, making sure the cutlery was all straight. Jack calls me a perfectionist, I prefer to think of it as tidy.

I wonder what the others are doing tonight. I imagine Gwen and Rhys are out together enjoyed each other's company. I've never thought much of Rhys. He seems a bit obsessive and clingy, but if he makes Gwen happy, then that's all that matters. And it's clear when they are together that he does.

I do feel bad for Tosh. She's obviously in love with Owen. I'd say a moron could see it, but, well, Owen can't. She's a brilliant person; she deserves someone who will really love her. I know that Owen has strong feelings for her, but whether they're brotherly or romantic, I don't know. All I do know is, is that whenever they're together, the vibe in the room changes, like you're interrupting on a private moment or something. I felt a twang in my heart at the thought of her sitting alone in her flat. Next year we'll have to have a Torchwood night out.

Owen is probably at a strip club picking up another willing girl. Ha, sometimes I wonder what it must be like to be him. I think he may have once harboured feelings for Gwen, but if he did they're long gone now. He seems to live life day by day, and fears commitment. That's why he prefers one-night stands with women he doesn't even know the names of. He's afraid to let anyone get too close, afraid that they will see the true person within. The loving, caring side of him that is easily hurt and bruised, though he hides it well.

Then there's Jack…well, he chose to spend the night with me. That has to mean something, right?

There was just a knock on the door that echoed through my small apartment. I checked the chicken one last time. I just hope I don't end up giving him food poisoning. There's a reason as to why we always have pizza you know. I guess I shouldn't keep him waiting any longer...

I have to write fast. Jack's just excused himself to use the bathroom after dessert.

Oh God…

I answered the door and was greeted by six foot of hot. He was dressed in jeans that were faded in all the right places and hugged his assets wonderfully. He wore a dark T-shirt that looks as if it had been painted onto his arms; I'm glad I decided not to wear a tie after all. His hair was hanging over his troubled eyes in golden brown locks. His eyes are always troubled. He carries secrets, things that he can't tell anyone, and I can see that he wants to, but it's too painful for him. He talks in his sleep sometimes, about someone called Grey. Another ex-lover maybe, like Captain John Hart? I'm not sure I want to know.

Anyway, he didn't even say hi. Just pushed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his firmly. I moaned and responded instantly, arching my head to deepen the kiss and opening my lips to allow his tongue access to mine. I was very conscious of him rubbing circles on the inside of my thigh with his thumb, but then he pulled away. I blinked a few times, breathing heavily. He seemed out of breath to, but not as much as I was. I couldn't even remember my own name.

"Hello, Yan," he whispered against my lips, knowing full well that I hated the nickname. Do I go around calling him Jackie? No. "Are you OK?"

I just nodded, still not capable of speech. I just pointed towards the kitchen vaguely. He slapped my ass as he pushed off the wall. I instantly noticed the change in temperature; the warmth was comforting.

He inhaled deeply. "Smells great. What are we having?" he asked.

I popped the cork of the wine, noticing gleam in his eye as I did so. I poured two glasses and handed him one. "Chicken with roasted vegetables."

He smiled widely. "I just got to keep reminding myself – I can't die."

I laughed at the Torchwood private joke and nervously started preparing the food. Just because he couldn't die didn't mean _I _wouldn't. But the food was great in the end, and there weren't even any leftovers. We made pleasant small talk over the table, his knee occasionally brushing against mine. We try not to mention work whenever we're alone and away from the office. Sometime we talk about hobbies, what books we like, or what movies we like. He said he like violent films to get him in the mood –

I just heard the door open. I moved my arm so that he wouldn't see me writing –

Oh God!

He's leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his broad chest. He must have run some water through his hair, as it's damp and sticking to his forehead and the top two buttons of this shirt are undone. He's smiling his crooked smiled at me and there's a smear of chocolate on the corner of his mouth from the chocolate cake we ate for dessert. Wow.

I smile back and my eyes just unwillingly look at the leftover chocolate sauce and cake sitting on the counter. His grin just grew.


	2. 20th April

_A/N: Same disclaimer as the last chapter. I'd like to dedicate it to Lady Clark-Weasley of Books. Set a while after 'Exit Wounds'. More Jack/Ianto fluff! Let me know what you think._

_L.C - This is for you, I know it's a bit sad, but I'll try and post something happier soon. I hope you like it and feel better soon!_

_20__th__ April_

It's been a few weeks now. Since we lost Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato. I'm sitting by their memorial stones now. They're both heavily decorated with flowers, fresh every week. God, first I lose Lisa, I could have lost Jack countless times and now Owen and Tosh. Am I incapable of keeping anyone I love near? Alive even?

The sky is grey, filled with tears that threaten to fall at any moment, like me.

I just can't believe they're gone. Their deaths left a hole in Torchwood. The team is broken and cannot be fixed. When Gwen joined we were finally complete, but the bonds have been severed once again. I can only hope that they find each other again, and provide light in the dark of death, as Jack once described

Jack gave us a week off to grieve and relax. Gwen spent the week with Rhys; I spent it alone in my apartment with my cat. Jack told us that he was going to rest, but I know he didn't. Someone had to repair the damage caused by John Hart to the Hub after all and when we came back most of the damage had been repaired.

John Hart. If I ever catch that bastard I'll…I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be nice. But I suppose it wasn't entirely his fault. He was under Grey's control, it was _his_ fault. Jack's own baby brother. I'm an only child, so I don't know of the responsibilities of siblings – but then, I guess you could always argue that it was Jack's fault he became that way for letting go of his hand. Or something like that, Jack never did tell me the details, but he talks in his sleep. He is a troubled soul, of that much I am sure, but in the mornings I never tell him what I've heard.

I felt so sorry for he and Gwen when they had to pack our friends belongings away forever. I know I wouldn't have been strong enough to do it. It was hard enough logging out of their computer systems for the last time, yet alone getting rid of the things we associated with them. Tosh's glasses, Owen's medical coat… God.

I actually contemplated quitting Torchwood. I wasn't sure if I could walk in everyday and not see them drinking coffee and sitting in front of their computer screens, like every other day. But I couldn't leave Jack and Gwen; one of the things I feared most was being alone.

We've survived so much – hell, Owen even beat death itself. I didn't think anything could ever take them away. Of course, he was conscious to the last minute as his body slowly decomposed. I can't even imagine what that must have been like.

I pray that Tosh told him how she felt. It was so obvious to everyone but them that they were in love. Owen acts like he's tough and doesn't care, when really he's very insecure and easily hurt. I think he feared rejection. He didn't have the best childhood and I know something about a dead fiancé, but I thought it rude to ask if there was any truth in that.

Jack is standing at the other side of the cemetery, under a large tree. I don't know how long he's been there – I don't even know how long _I've_ been here. His pockets are in his trench coat, his ankles a shoulder width apart. His expression is casual, but his eyes give away so much. He's hurting, I know he considers what happened his fault. I've tried to tell him otherwise, but he can be so stubborn –

I'm back home now. Jack's asleep, his head on my chest. When he noticed I'd seen him at the cemetery he walked over, crossing the grounds. I stood up and caught his eyes, never breaking the contact until he was in front of me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close to him. I choked back a sob and let the tears fall at the same time the rain began to pour.

"I know, I know," he whispered softly.

I'm not sure how long we stayed there for, just holding each other and whispering sweet nothings, but eventually we ended up in the SUV heading to my apartment. I entwined my fingers with his, not wanting to be alone. It was night by now, so I switched on the lights.

Jack had dark shadows under his eyes and stress lines. "When was the last time you slept?" I asked him, the mother-hen side of me taking over.

He shrugged. "A while."

I took his coat off and tugged his shirt out of his trousers, unbuttoning it and throwing it onto the floor. I went to my wardrobe and handed him one of the old T-shirts I kept for when he stayed the night. I pushed him onto the bed and quickly changed out of my own suit.

"Ianto?" he whispered.

"Shh," I said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes and kissing his forehead. "Just sleep."

Funny how the roles reversed; I was the one comforting him now. He was asleep within moments. He looked so much younger when he was resting, so much more relaxed. It just showed how much stress and pressure he carried with him.

Owen and Toshiko may be gone in body, but their spirits will live on.


End file.
